The Thought That Counts
by Scavenge-4-Dreams
Summary: "It's not what you give but how much love you put into giving it." -Or- It's the thought that counts' Right? Mild(ish) Stony Slash. Sweet fluff, with a touch of angst... x-mas 2013 fic. Tony has a very special gift for Steve... wearing red ribbon and not much else. Chaos ensues - naturally...


**The Thought That Counts**

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**Summary:** _"It's not what you give but how much love you put into giving it." -Or- It's the thought that counts' Right? _

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Leaning forward, his hands braced against the shower wall, Tony let the almost-too-hot water sluice over his shoulders and down his back, washing the last remnants of soap to the floor.

Shaving accoutrements?

No – Steve liked his old fashioned brush and lather…

With a sigh, Tony stepped from the shower, reaching blindly for his towel, unable to see through the steam that had all but engulfed the room in a heavy wash of warm stickiness. Moist white billowed about the ceiling, fogging mirrors and turning his olive skin a soft pink.

Towel? Beach towel? Beach ball? A beach?

Stupid, Stupider. ….. A beach? Mayb- No, it's Steve. Stupidest.

A quick swipe with soft blue micro-fibre, and he left the towel in a crumpled heap on the floor beneath where its red counterpart hung. Still damp, but no longer dripping, he padded into their room, footprint darkened into the soft carpet behind him, slowly lightening until his feet were dry.

Socks – Steve liked socks.

Steve already had as many pairs of white socks as there were days in the year.

Pulling green silk up over moist skin, the material stuck to him, patches darkening to an olive green, dark against the original emerald.

Pyjamas, sweat pants, boxers, t-shirt, dress shirt, suits, hat, soc-

Boring. Boring. Boring – and I've already nixed the socks.

He swiped away the rivulet of water dripping into his eyes, and brushed his still wet hair back from his face, letting the water drip down the back of his neck instead.

Steve hated that – Whenever Tony wandered out of the bathroom without drying his hair properly, -which was always- Steve would fetch his own towel and drop it over Tony's head, stating that the last thing they needed was Tony getting sick.

But Steve wasn't home at the moment, which meant Tony could leave his hair wet and dripping and not have to worry about being smothered by his over-protective lover.

A promise to look after himself and sleep, and ea-

That promise wouldn't even last the first week. ….Day.

Flopping facedown onto Steve's side of their bed, Tony sighed. Somewhere in the tower below, he could just pick up the soft strains of the music that Clint had insisted JARVIS play nonstop – the archer was somewhat of a Christmas freak.

It sounded like 'All I want for Christmas…" at that point in time, and Tony snorted at the irony. God - it couldn't possibly be this hard, he had to be doing something wrong.

Stretching across the bed, he pulled his Starkpad from the bedside table, and pulling up a web browser with a quick flick of his finger, he google searched – 'Present for perfect lover from crappy boyfriend.'

Dropping the tablet onto the floor beside the bed with a complete disregard for its wellbeing (or complete faith in the durability of its design), Tony rolled over and threw an arm over his eyes.

He'd tried. He really, truly had.

He'd been on cloud nine for weeks after last Christmas. It had been the perfect opportunity to give the people he cared about extravagant gifts without them wondering what he wanted or what he'd done wrong. And he'd been stunned, and more than a little touched by everyone's wish to spend Christmas at his (their) tower.

They'd dug out the Stark heirloom decorations and piled them onto a tree with more joy and abandon than the little frosted glass ornaments had ever been handled with. Eggnog, hot chocolate and mulled cider had been downed with merry cheer and the whole time had been spent together…and not once did Tony feel like disappearing into his workshop.

Christmas was…special now.

Now, that he had family… and Steve.

Last Christmas had been the best he'd ever had, and he'd wanted this year to be even better.

So, with a plan in mind to make this Christmas absolutely perfect, Tony had shaped his end of year priorities a little differently than previous years– and on December 1st, the hunt for the perfect gifts had begun.

Clint had been first – and the easiest. A working replica of Legolas's 'Lothlorien' bow and the matching quiver, with arrows – all crafted in Tony's workshop, by his own hands. Reinforced and operational. He'd also thrown in a replica of Lurtz Urak-hai bow, just because it was one bad-ass piece of weaponry.

He was actually a little worried about Bruce's gift, but not to the point of being unsure about giving it. Right now, there was a 2kg ball of fluff roaming around his newly pup-secured private workshop. Tony had spent days going from breeder to breeder, looking at perfect golden retrievers and beagles and shepherds and little terriers that nipped at his fingers…in the end, he'd 'rescued' a mangy little mess from a cardboard box on the subway for $30… and knew it was perfect. Big green was going to love it – and so would Bruce.

Thor had been hard, and then easy… after all, what does one get a god? A lifetime's supply of pop-tarts had been a good start, and the addition of an actual legal identity had seemed a good second step. That one had been…complicated. But if Thor ever wanted to marry that girl, well, it would be nice if he actually existed.

Natasha had been the only one he'd approached Pepper about – after all, the only gifts he'd ever actually bought woman himself had been invertible clusterfucks. Pepper had many suggestions, from clothing and perfume and jewellery, to vacations and spa treatments and a whole slew of other ideas. And in the end – Tony had disregarded every one of them. Wrapped under the tree were a set of exquisite obsidian bladed, garnet encrusted stiletto daggers… and a matching hair clip.

Pepper on the other hand, was going to benefit from her own advice – The elite spa and massage retreat accompanied by the simple solitaire diamond studs, and a card that said, "Tony Stark is a jackass. And Pepper Potts was the god-sent angel who started to teach him that it was okay to love and be loved – even when he thinks he doesn't deserve it. Forgive me. And thankyou. Steve thanks you too." He didn't notice that he'd slipped into present tense at the end of the letter, but it was better that way, for he still didn't believe sometimes.

They'd been over for some time, almost two years in fact – shortly after the whole 'Mandarin' fiasco, Pepper had finally been unable to handle it. The pressure, the worry, Tony's unattractive habit of working himself into exhaustion and rushing into danger heedlessly.…but it was he who'd lether go, rather than make her break it off.

Tony recognised now, the things that she'd been trying to show him then. He'd just needed someone who approached it differently. With a firmer yet gentler approach. Someone who could coax and persuade rather than demand or beg. Someone who didn't make Tony automatically bristle when questioned or denied… yet, could also pick him up, throw him over a shoulder and simply walk out if it came to that.

Someone like Steve.

Which bought him to the quandary of the day.

Steve's Christmas present.

Last year had been their first 'official' Christmas – they'd only been together two weeks, and had made the decision not to exchange gifts. Yet come Christmas night, Tony had found a beautiful charcoal sketch of himself asleep in the workshop – the detail showcasing the affection in the artist's feelings.

Steve himself had been given something that he treasured above almost all else – an old VHS recording, painstakingly transferred to DVD. The captain had slipped it into his DVD player and settled back, mildly curious…only to suddenly be face to face with Howard Stark.

He looked to be 65-70 years old, although still going strong. The young Howard he had known wasn't there anymore, but if Steve looked close enough, he could still be seen in the shape of this man's jaw and the tilt of his head.

All Steve could see in Howard's eyes was Tony.

Steve appreciated the thought behind the gift, but wondered at the reasoning. He'd already been told, and told again, by Fury, by Coulson, by Bruce…and not so much by Tony himself…That Howard had not remained the man he'd known.

He'd seen it too, and believed it more easily the closer he'd gotten to Tony. The wariness in the face of statements of love. The seeming belief that he needed to 'buy' their friendship and love. The inability to care for himself – and the muted shock and confusion when someone tried to do it for him.

The lingering affection for Howard had faded and a smouldering mess of confusion, disappointment and rage had grown as Steve had realised how badly his old friend had failed Tony.

And yet, he'd been one of Steve's friends in a time of grief and loss. A good friend.

After those few immediately regretted comments flung back and forth between them during the Loki inspired madness when they'd first met and after they'd somehow moved well beyond any and all such sentiments, Tony still adamantly refused to talk about Howard to Steve. The one time he'd opened up slightly, it had only been to say that what was done, was done, and that despite it all, he'd turned out fine.

Steve wondered, with no little trepidation, what 'It all' was.

Settling in a little more as he watched Howard putter around his own workshop seemingly ignorant of the camera, Steve knew that there had to be a reason Tony had given him this – especially tonight of all nights.

Howard seemed content…happy even. He was humming softly as he worked, the unfamiliar tune muted and disfigured by the tongue peeking out the side of his mouth as he concentrated.

Perhaps Tony was trying to show him that Howard hadn't been as bad as some of the scenarios that Steve had run through his mind over the past few years. Perhaps this was Tony's way of giving Steve back his confidence in his frie-

The thought cut off as Howard suddenly changed before his eyes, his soft smile fading into a disgruntled and then irate mask as he put down whatever he was working on with a clang and stepped around the bench, and out of camera shot for an instant… and when he walked back into frame, all the air left Steve's stomach like he'd been sucker punched.

The angry man on the film stomped across his lab, fairly dragging a much smaller form along in his wake until they reached the bench. Stopping, Howard shook the figure roughly as he damned, the audio grainy and strangely tinny, "You useless little brat! – How many times do I have to say it? My workshop is off limits!"

Steve's eyes widened as they seemingly met brown ones through space and time, confirming what he'd already known – the child was the 10 or 12 year old version of his lover.

Fury ignited in his gut as Howard spun the child to the side, and landed a heavy handed smack to Tony's behind and not just one or two, but over and over. Steve was ultimately very glad that Howard restrained himself to just spanking, for it didn't look like he was checking his strength overly…Steve felt sick as he watched Tony's small body shudder forward and slump back after each one.

Little Tony didn't say anything, didn't protest or struggle and that told Steve more than he'd wanted to know.

He hit pause on the tape and slumped back.

God.

Was that what Tony had wanted to show him?

That Howard had been a mean and unrestrained disciplinarian, perhaps not actively abusive…but definitely controlling, unreasonable and emotionally cruel?

Was that how Tony had grown up?

Useless little brat?

Steve didn't know if he could stomach anymore – he really just wanted to go find Tony, wrap himself around his smaller lover and….apologise on behalf of his friend? Apologise for not being there? Promise that he would have stopped it. Never let it happen. Ask for a time machine so he could fix it?

Instead, he turned it back on – needing to know why he was watching this, know what Tony needed him to understand.

Howard shook Tony again and dragged him across to the lab door, flinging it open and shoving Tony out – straight into the arms of a small woman.

She appeared to be in her mid-sixties to early seventies as well, a small trim figure and greying brunette hair pulled up into a loose bun. Tony tried to pull back, but she held on, and Tony melted into her, his arms circling her waist tightly and his face pressed against her side.

Steve suddenly heard child Tony's voice for the first time, as he babbled against his haven, and Steve was sure that if he could see those brown eyes they'd be flooded with held back tears, "-Sorry! I didn't go in. I promise. I knocked! Aunt Mags- I-" and Steve was pretty sure that Tony dissolved into gasping tears, his tiny shoulders heaving as the small woman petted his hair soothingly.

All gentle love and sympathy fled, and fire shot from her eyes as she looked to Howard's steely countenance, and she spat at him, "Howard Stark! You are unfit to love one as precious as this child – he would be ashamed. I know I am."

And with that she slapped Howard across the face, and lifted the child Tony, who was easily half her size, into her arms. Steve barely heard the pained moan of, "Aunt Mags..." and the gently hushed, "I know, baby…" as she set him gently on her hip, her arm crossing beneath the seat of his pants.

She turned and stormed down the hall.

Steve paused the DVD again – Tony's ageless brown eyes, heavy with liquid pain and emotional grief staring back at him. Yet a small relaxed sigh gracing his tiny face as he melted into the arms of his rescuer – Aunt Mags.

Peggy Carter.

That was what Tony was showing him. That the fiercely protective, absolutely gorgeous woman he had loved beyond a shadow of a doubt… had somehow come to mean even more, as she had sheltered the defenceless child, who would become the man he had somehow come to love above all others.

Incidentally, Tony had still been awake when Steve had knocked on his door a mere four minutes later, despite it being after midnight. Steve had understood the DVD for what it was – a door to Tony's heart that he doubted Tony had ever been able to open…even if he'd wanted to. Steve had simply walked in, wrapped himself around Tony, and hadn't let go. And he'd been accepting Tony's faults, praising his achievements and coaxing sunshine from thunderclouds ever since

Which was why Tony had been so determined that this years present was absolutely perfect. Something that showed Steve that he was loved just as much, even if Tony still had issues actually just saying the words – he hadn't said it often, to him it always came out sounding trite or cheap.

Something serious, personal…something thoughtful. Not trivial orcommon… not giant rabbits or ponies.

So he'd approached it rationally, logically….what did Steve like?

Tony. Avenging. Exercising. Drawi-

Over the next four hours Tony had given himself a crash course on charcoal sketching and all the various methods and equipment…and finally settled on the perfect gift.

It was thoughtful – it showed that Tony had actually thought about what Steve might like.

It was tasteful – Charcoal sketching. Didn't get much more tasteful than that.

It was personal – well, the accompanying offer of a living model, who would actually endeavour to sit still for as long as needed and not sneak peeks…surely that made it personal. If not? Naked model.

The beautiful charcoal set was perfect. Steve didn't yet have one, it was extravagant enough that it was doubtful the Super soldier would ever splurge on one either.

Perfect.

Apparently Natasha thought so too. JARVIS showed him the security footage of Natasha unpacking it in her room late one afternoon.

He may have let loose a betrayed howl and tossed a mug at the wall….but only a little.

It was still early December, he had plenty of time.

And then Coulson had asked Tony to help track down a vintage baseball card set, and Tony crossed off anything similar of his list. His gift would be unique and he certainly wasn't going to copy that taser toting, super-nanny watching, Captain America fan boy.

Food was perfect, Steve loved to try all sorts of new exotic foods that his allergy ridden pre-serum body hadn't been able to handle, and he'd tryanything once… A romantic candle-lit picnic on the rooftop beneath a starlit sky, with a sample box of gourmet and traditional foods from all over the world – with Tony himself as desert.

Except, apparently Bruce, with his well-travelled and quite unusual taste in food, had the same idea – minus the candle-lit setting and Tony for desert, of course.

Every idea Tony had…. Someone else had the same or it was deemed not good enough.

He'd even thought about asking Pepper, but didn't want to asked for her help with Steve… asking the ex for help with current? Definitely not cool.

Besides, his gift to Steve…well, it was his. Theirs. And Tony wanted to keep it that way.

Which was how he'd come to this – Christmas Eve with no gift for his lover.

* * *

Steve wasn't home yet, Tony figured he wouldn't be back until after eleven. The Captain had volunteered to help out at a soup kitchen on Christmas Eve and that closed at 10pm. Add the clean-up (like Steve wouldn't stay to help) and the commute home, at least eleven.

Tony had steadfastly refused to go.

The Maria Stark foundation had been the sole funder, keeping the kitchen running for the past 20 something years. The one year Tony had showed up, had resulted in a huge fuss, and that was before the media had gotten hold of it… it had been an absolute nightmare.

Besides, he'd needed those extra hours to think up his perfect gift.

Because it couldn't be that hard.

Genius and multi-billionaire, remember.

Of course – that was hours and hours ago and it was now half-ten and he still had nothing.

Tony wondered how Steve would react. He probably wouldn't say anything at all, perhaps just a conciliatory - "That's okay.", because Steve was nice like that. But he'd be thinking it. Thinking – "Self-absorbed. Selfish. How much can he really love me? Tony Stark, so wrapped up in himself that he can-"

Something Steve will like.

Something personal.

Something no one else is giving him.

Something…

'Wrapped up in himself…'

Levering himself upright in one move, Tony scooted across the wide bed, slipped from the side and dashed across to his 'God Tony, this is not your workshop!' cupboard (the draw expanded) because…

Yes! It was perfect.

His mind was already whirring through all the possibilities, logistics and ramifications - aware that he didn't have a lot of time before Steve got home.

Okay - Best way to do this.

Had to be a personal place.

Roof? Arbour? Workshop? Steve's art studio? Outside on a snow blanketed mead-

Somewhere with low to non-existent chance of interlopers – bedroom.

Check.

Stripping his pants off and tossing them aside in a crumpled heap, Tony grabbed the small coil of red cord, admiring the gentle weave of pure gold thread through the wider red base. It was a rejected coil of inter-wire for the suit, reinforced for strength, yet not enough. The suits peak velocity had seen the cord snap at the joints; he'd corrected the recipe and produced a viable option, but had kept the reject as well.

It had just been…pretty.

And right now it was going to be reinvented as the perfect Christmas gift ribbon.

Looping the make-shift ribbon around his throat, Tony tied it off in a neat double bow, just above his left collar bone. And then untied it, because….less bows and tassels, more sleek and sexy.

He reached down, and tied the loose end of the cord around his left ankle, double knotting it to make sure it was secure, and then proceeded to wrap it neatly up his leg, each turn a precise two inches apart. Once the cord was nestled against his groin, he pulled the next loop up over his hip, winding it around his waist twice firmly.

Satisfied with his lower body, Tony pulled the coil up and over his right shoulder, holding it in place and wrapping it back the other way, securing it across itself at his collar bone.

Drawing it down straight to his waist again, he turned slightly, twisting to reach the cord with his other hand as he passed it behind him. He tied the entire thing in a loose knot, secured at the small of his back.

Settling in a blatantly suggestive pose, one leg curled up and tucked behind the other, reclining back into their (his) veritable mountain of pillows, Tony asked JARVIS to dim the lights to just above candle glow.

The soft illumination picked up the gold and dimmed the red to a blood like vibrancy and the overall effect was simply gorgeous. He was delectable and sensual and completely absolutely…ridiculous.

God! What a stupid idea.

Really! Give himself to Steve?

What? His virtue!?

Steve had already had, could continue to have, as much of Tony as he could take.

What was special about something Steve had access to just about any time he wanted?

And really, it was crass. Steve just wasn't a crass kind of guy. Cheesy and undoubtedly adorable, sure, but never crass.

God, he was a walking cliché!

How the hell hard could it be to find the perfect present!

Fuming, frustrated at himself, irritated and humiliated, Tony huffed, throwing the remainder of the coiled cord at the window.

Only to have it bounce off, jump back at him and unravel, most of it cascading down over his head and chest in a bath of loosely coiled red and gold.

Tony was still for an instant, his face blank and his eyes downcast at the mess pooled in his lap. A silent, immobile statue of disgust, upset and frustration. A deep breath. Two. And then the rising red that had been fluctuating since the earliest days of December rose up and engulfed him.

And he just lost it.

Frustration and anger and the feeling of such intense, deep insecurity that writhed within him, surfaced and he grabbed at the cord again. Throwing it away in a haphazard thrust, Tony wrestled to get the rest free of his body, pulling at where it was looped about his waist and snarling as he grabbed the tangle which had once again flown back into his lap, shoving them in the other direction.

He flopped onto his back, legs and arms flailing and kicking as he let loose. He ranted and raved, cursing such filth and obscenity that, had the rooms not been soundproofed, the whole of the tower would have heard.

Tony ran out of steam slowly, and akin to a toddler throwing a colossal tantrum, he eventually fell silent, slumped against the soft pillows as he stared glumly at the red and gold cord wrapped about him in a warped mess.

Sanity bled back in, his out of control fury, slowly morphed into the more adult response of slowly burning and tightly held frustration.

Steve would just have to appreciate the clothes or the book or the music or the art supplies or the vintage baseball cards or any other number of gifts that are wrapped under the tree.

It was just that none of them were perfect.

But then? Neither was Tony.

And maybe it was about time that Steve realised that.

A sigh escaped him, and Tony moved to sit up… only to realise he couldn't.

His right hand had a fair bit of give in its reach, but the cord that pulled tight around his wrist and disappeared over his shoulder was well out of his reach. His left hand was cinched tight against the small of his back, his fingertips able to only flutter uselessly against the swell where cheek met hip. His left leg was so badly snarled that he couldn't move it at all, one of the carefully layered coils above his knee having been reefed up and somehow lost in a tangled snarl at his waist.

Oh shit.

His fingers scrabbled for purchase, trying to get a grip on the cord, but everything he did seemed to only make the situation worse.

He was well and truly stuck.

As the hand that had been able to roam a little became caught tight in a new snaring knot, Tony gave up and accepted the inevitable – he wasn't getting out without help.

But who to call?

Dummy was his first and safest option, but, it would take the bucket of bolts a very long (too long) time to make to it to the penthouse, and then the budding AI would be more likely to stab him than actually cut him loose. Besides, Dummy was upgrading, and he'd been promising Dummy this fine motor upgrade for months and it was his Christmas present…

Clint was out because Tony would never get over the teasing. Besides, Clint was with Agent. The archer' had the whole thing planned for weeks, even asked if they could use one of Tony's convertibles.

Natasha was just too scary. She was even scary while in Paris. Which is where she was right now – and Tony wasn't up to asking her to come back early, not even just a day early.

Bruce? He might have had the guts to ask Bruce, science bro's after all, but before he had the chance to really weigh the ramifications, JARVIS interrupted him, "Sir, you wished to be informed when Captain Rogers returned? He is making his way to the penthouse as we speak -"

Panicking, Tony rolled toward the door, before realising that at the pace he was capable of moving, Steve would be there well before he made it off the bed, let alone worked out the second phase of his escape. He demanded, "Shit! –JARVIS, lock the door!"

It took JARVIS several seconds to comply, and his tone was somehow amusedly waspish as he replied, "…Very well, I have locked Captain Rogers out of his room. On Christmas Eve. Shall I tell him you do not wish to see him -"

Damn.

"No? No. Just. …unlock it. ", and Tony scrambled to get under the covers, wiggling in a tangled mess of cord and silk as he worked his way upright on the pillows, the covers tucked around his shoulders, as he curled in, trying to appear more natural.

He had a plan. Steve would shower and Tony would get Bruce up here for a quick science bro rescue and then Steve would not be showering and he'd never have to know.

Only, when the door slid open mere seconds later and Steve entered, Tony couldn't help but notice that Steve's hair was wet and he was already wearing sweat pants.

Shit.

Steve entered the room quietly, his gait slow and relaxed as he padded barefoot towards the bed. As he registered the darkened state of the room and the blanket engulfed lump in their bed, his face lit up with a soft smile, affection and adoration clear.

Tony, watching with hooded eyes from the shadowed bed, felt his breath catch and his heart jump at how completely obvious Steve's utter love for him was, splashed across his expressive face.

God. What had he done to deserve such – goodness?

He'd say perfect, but even Steve had little irksome ways. "Sleep Tony, eat Tony. Stop being so reckless, Tony."

And annoying habits, "Yes – I do have to fold my underwear. Yes Tony, I do like black and white movies. No – I won't let you use the shield as a toboggan. "

But he was good. So good.

And somehow all he wanted was Tony. Tony who was not good, most of the time.

Tony, who was selfish and egotistical, and melodramatic and self-important.

Tony who, despite his billions, despite his genius…can't even buy Steve the perfect Christmas present.

Steve drew closer to the bed, his smile growing when his blue eyes caught sight of Tony's open brown and he's spoken quietly, "I thought you were asleep. Thank you for not still being in the workshop." There was no admonishment in Steve's voice, just honest gratitude, as he appreciated the fact that Tony put Christmas Eve with Steve high on his priorities.

One knee resting on the bed at Tony's hip, Steve bent down, catching Tony's willing lips in a gentle kiss, his hands framing Tony's face until all the man could see was blond and blue. Pulling back, after allowing Tony's chasing lips to meet his again, Steve settled further onto the bed, twisting to sit beside Tony.

Opening his bedside table and scrabbling for a second, he said "I was going to give you this in the morning, but – you're still awake and I'm feeling pretty in love with you at the moment so…" he sat back, leaning against Tony's hip and grinned as he continued, "I want to give you your present – yeah?"

All Tony could think was that he had nothing to give in return, and if he had just a few more hours he'd be able to think of something.

But it had been a month, and Steve was so hopeful and wonderful and just sitting there expectantly.

Like Tony was going to say no.

He nodded.

Steve smiled and held out his hand, palm up. He looked adorably bashful and yet strangely confident at the same time, as he asked "Can I hold your hand?"

Shit. Shit and double shit. How the hell had he forgotten?!

Well, gorgeous, blond and almost on top of him was probably an adequate answer.

Well.

Blinking, Tony refused to meet Steve's eyes as he answered, "Um. No? "

Steve raised an eyebrow, and Tony could see the gears clicking in his head as he started to reply, "Tony -"

Cutting him off, Tony haltingly, sort of explained…or really didn't, "I'm fine – just a little… I can't…uh – move very well – or, like, at all. "

And before he could say anything else, or protest, Steve had yanked the cover down and away from his chest…and then he'd just stared.

And stared.

Blinked.

Stared some more.

Tony felt his cheeks warm, and the rush of heat as the flush spread down his throat to his chest – and that was more than embarrassing…he didn't blush, not like that.

Needing to fill the silence, Tony babbled, "It's not what it looks like – actually I don't really know what this looks like. But I wasn't playing weird bondage sex games. I only play weird bondage sex games with you. I promise. Expect for maybe that time Natasha tied me to the bar stool and forc- but never mind."

His gaze dropped away from Steve's and then he blinked and looked back up as Steve's fingers touched on a loop of the cord at his shoulder. Tony owed him an explanation, "I… I couldn't find you anything for Christmas."

Steve raised an eyebrow above wide eyes at the seeming non-segue and Tony continued, "I mean, an actual present – like, an 'I love you' present with love and thoughtfulness and complete adulation and everything. Something personal, that you'd really love and… perfect."

Looking down to where Steve's large fingers were now caressing the cord, Tony added, "And I know this is awful. It's crass and cheap and completely unromantic and almost worse than the giant rabbit but I just… Steve? Steve… are you – you are. You're laughing at me. This is…. I'm pouring my heart out to you! About my inadequacy and insecurity and you – you're… "

Steve pulled back slightly, his shivering façade finally cracking as he let go. He laughed madly, almost doubling over as he fought the uncontrollable chuckles. His head stopped to rest against Tony's shoulder as his body shook with unsuppressed humour.

Tony's bristled, as much as he was able, beneath the tightly coiled cord, annoyed and upset that Steve thought his very serious dilemma funny.

And then he looked more closely at his laughing partner. Steve's eyes were all but streaming with liquid mirth, and he was hiding a smile against Tony's shoulder…and Tony suddenly saw just how funny the whole situation was.

Steve was trying to talk through his laughter, with limited success, "You – you are…"

A deep breath and the captain forced himself to settle, although he couldn't wipe the grin as he leant down and captured Tony's lips, coaxing his slightly mollified lover into a passionate kiss.

He pulled back and moved to frame Tony's face with his hands again, drawing his thumbs back and forth across the soft skin beneath brown eyes as he directed their gaze unerringly to his own blue and spoke, "Don't change. Please. Not ever."

Tony raised eyebrow and Steve added, "Oh – you're annoying and reckless, and immature, and you don't take care of yourself properly and will no doubt cause me more headaches than the rest combined…but – still – or perhaps because…You're perfect."

Tony blinked, his eyes drawing down with what Steve immediately recognised as confusion. It wasn't a very familiar expression on Tony, and only ever really appeared in situations like this.

Not that there had actually ever really been a situation like this.

Tony asked stiltedly, "I don't understand. I mean, I'm not arguing, but don't you want… something thoughtful and personal and… "

Steve shook his head.

Just Tony's inability to find a good enough present said more about the depth of Tony's love than he would ever just come out and say – Steve could read him. And the fact that he'd wanted it thoughtful and personal and perfect…

"This is perfect" he said, and leant to kiss Tony again.

As Steve pulled back, Tony still looked confused, but it was a pleased confused and he made a conscious decision to ponder more on the workings of their relationship later. Now…

"Well – uh – Merry Christmas? – Wanna unwrap your present." The genius asked, with a suggestive wriggle.

Steve grinned and moved to lean over Tony, saying innocently, "What If I like you like this?"

Tony nodded sagely as he replied, "Totally your choice, don't let me sway you. But I think you'll like this less when my hand drops off from lack of blood flow…"

Steve pulled away, and dragged the rest of the blankets off completely and dropped them to the floor. He untangled the sheet from around Tony's lower body and then just – stared.

Again.

"Steve? – hand falling off?" Tony prompted with a twitch of movement.

The captain's gaze remained unfocused as he replied absently, "Hush. My gift. I want to… Do you have any idea how you look right now?"

Tony felt the dreaded blush return with a vengeance as he answered with a grimace, "I know – absolutely ridiculous and-"

Steve shut him up with a kiss. Thoroughly.

When the blond finally pulled back, hovering over his breathless, lust drunk lover, Steve corrected the previous misconception with a whispered, "Want to know what I see?"

His gaze was scorching where it floated over Tony's body as he spoke "You're gorgeous…this light, it's just… God, what it does to your eyes. And that cord, where it brushes against your arc, sitting flush against your skin… beautiful. I could stare all night. And that flush – yeah, that one – you have no idea what that does to me. To see you heating up under my eyes… "

When Tony's pleased little smile escaped, Steve fell silent, reaching to start untangling the cord.

He started at the end of the rope, with sure, gentle fingers, threading it back through itself, and again, around Tony's arm and through itself again and then he followed to where it disappeared under Tony's back.

Steve explained, "I need to turn you over to get at the knot. Let me know if I hurt y-"

"You won't" It was said with such complete and utter belief that it became a statement of truth and Steve simply agreed.

Lifting Tony easily, cradling his bound weight against his chest, Steve turned Tony to his stomach, propping him over pillows for the arc-reactor's comfort. His lower body rested over Steve's lap, the worst knotted section at the small of his back within easy reach.

Going to work on the knot that had captured Tony's hand, Steve traced the strong fingers, bending to press a kiss to the palm.

The knot was difficult, badly tangled and containing several smaller knots itself, it was taking several moments.

Tony had never been overly patient, and within minutes he'd started to squirm, which did nothing to help Steve. Not his untangling, and certainly not his libido – what with Tony sprawled over his lap.

"Hold still, Tony." Steve reminded gently, his eyes squinting at the corded knot.

"Sorry" Tony murmured, trying to hold still.

"Tony!" Steve reprimanded a moment later as Tonty twisted, trying to see, Steve losing his hold on the small coil.

"I said I'm sorry!" Tony bit back, adding a wriggle just for spite.

"No, you're not. I'd be careful, you're in a precarious position here. "And he lifted one knee, giving Tony's raised ass a light slap to emphasise his point.

Steve shook his head at Tony's answer, "And that's supposed to be a deterrent how? Because – yeah – So not." and punished (rewarded) him with a slightly harder smack.

Going back to work on the knot, with the delicious sound of Tony gasp echoing in his ear for later perusal, Steve added, "Behave yourself, troublemaker – I've got to get this knot undone, you're fingers are starting to go blue"

Tony settled – after all, what was an engineer without fingers?

Steve finally got the knot untangled and he unravelled the cord, freeing Tony's leg from it pull.

Looking over the rest of the snarl he thought on the best course of action. Decided, he gently lifted Tony and balanced him on his feet on the floor, his bound legs secured by Steve's thighs on each side of his own.

Tony still had one hand trapped at his waist, but the other, released from his back, moved to rest on Steve's shoulder.

Steve was a little stumped as to how the cord managed to get around Tony's waist so many times. It almost looks like he'd rolled over and over on the bed.

With a shrug, he went to work on the knot holding Tony's other hand, and quite by accident his fingers brushed over that spot.

Tony spasmed backwards with a gasp, garbed with a filthy curse word, his hands flailing as they reached for Steve and stability.

Steve's grin was completely unrepentant.

Both of Tony's hands now free, Steve moved to work on a snarl at Tony's shoulder.

This one was quite intricate and the single colour of thread was making it hard to distinguish one section from the next. The captain was leaning in close, his nose bare inches from Tony's shoulder as he contemplated the knot.

He jumped almost a foot in the air with a yelp when Tony's wet finger was suddenly in his ear and a set of teeth clamped onto his wrist.

Steve shoved the hyena-like Tony onto his back on the bed, and slid alongside him to loom over his sprawled, yet still laughing lover.

One hand pinning Tony to the bed, Steve extracted his revenge, attacking that spot on his lover's stomach.

Licking and nibbling and biting and sucking.

Tony, trussed up beneath him, could do nothing but writhe and whimper.

Steve didn't stop, despite the begging, until Tony was a shaking shuddering, whimpering mess beneath him and when he did pull away, it was with a lecherous grin and an added reminder, "We've had this discussion many, many times. You are far too reckless. Attacking when you're essentially defenceless. We're going to have to work on your strategy… "

Tony, still breathless and shuddering beneath Steve, managed to gasp out, "Nothing wrong with my strategy – everything is going exactly as planned…"

Steve succeeded in freeing the knot, and, almost finished, he started to unravel Tony's leg, as he replied with a grin, "Really – tangled up so badly that you can't free yourself…that's some

Tony shrugged a he defended himself, "It seemed like a good idea at the time….Well, actually, it really didn't – hence the tangles but - "

Steve pulled the last of the rope free from Tony's leg and scooted up to lean against the head board. Grabbing Tony's foot, he yanked and dragged his laughing lover closer, until Tony was flat on his back, with his foot cradled in Steve's lap.

Caressing the strong arch and soft skin, Steve worked on the last knot, a fairly simple tie at Tony's ankle. The Captains voice was serious when he answered, "Tony. You know I would have loved anything you got me, just because it was from you…"

Tony was silent for a moment, long enough for Steve to finish the knot and remove the cord, dropping it beside the bed, also for 'later use'.

Movement caught his eye as Tony reached for a pillow, and he watched as it was hugged tightly as the billionaire replied. His voice was joking but his eyes weren't as he said, "Even a giant plush rabbit?"

It's the second time Tony had mentioned the rabbit and Steve wondered, but answered honestly, "Tony, if you bought me a giant plush rabbit I'd wonder if you were off your meds. But, yes…I'd love it because it came from you. From your mind, even if it is crazy and extravagant and unnecessary. It came from your heart. "

Evidently, it was the right thing to say because he ended up with a lap full of warm, naked Tony and lush, full lips against his.

Tony pulled away after a few moments, his eyes wide and gorgeous as he sat, sprawled in a half straddle over Steve's lap.

Not breaking eye contact, but not saying anything either, Steve reached behind him and located the box from his bedside table. Finding Tony's hand were it was curled around his bicep, Steve closed the simple black ring into Tony's palm, and let go, letting Tony look it over at his own pace.

It was a ring – simple, plain and completely beautiful in its absence of intricacy. Black ionised metal, and five words engraved about the inside –'For however long forever lasts'.

It wasn't a proposal as such. Not an engagement ring or a promise ring. Not anything similar in any sense of the word – and yet deeper.

It was just a recognition of the way Steve felt about Tony.

Tony didn't even consider, didn't hesitate, he simply slid the ring on and clasped their hands together, the cool metal warming between their heated skin.

Steve pulled Tony closer, his smaller form melting into his chest and moulding against him as if made that way by design.

Softly whispered 'Merry Christmas's' were exchanged, and then there was silence for a moment, as they just enjoyed each other's presence.

And then Steve asked, "So – I've unwrapped my present – now what?"

And with a grin and a slow roll of his hips, Tony replied – "You open it up, carefully, and slowly with infinite patience and gentleness – sustain that exquisite anticipation for as long as possible. And then, when you just can't wait any longer …

And bringing their still clasped hands up, Steve brushed a kiss to the back of Tony's and a second to his lips, as he finished, "…I get to share whatever treasure lies within."

And that's exactly what he did.

* * *

_**A/N - Re-post cos of issues. Read and review... pls?**_

Merry Christmas '13!

Hope everyone had a safe and Happy X-mas and, wishing everyone a perfect 2014.

Also - No beta used, and while I did my best, I really appreciate any help with glaring errors to make my stories better.

And as always - Happy Reading )


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